


Natasha Romanoff- What Could Have Been

by Skellyagogo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, F/F, Female reader insert, Forbidden Love, Heavy Angst, Unrequited Love, hidden love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellyagogo/pseuds/Skellyagogo
Summary: Deep seeded feelings and trying to ignore them.  A mission creates promise, but silence afterward says enough.  Feelings unspoken until a frustrated scene in the gym changes that.  A birthday party and a special gift, but who is it from?
Kudos: 6





	Natasha Romanoff- What Could Have Been

  


**********

Her lips were warm & salty from her margarita. The way she kissed, the movements of her mouth domineering and yet soft. Her lips tasted like a spiked strawberry. Sugary-sweet with a pucker of sour that left me lightheaded and feeling drunk off the touch. A subtle hint of rose and it’s intoxicating scent hung tightly in the air around us. Heaviest at her neck. The smell wafting in Y/n’s nose with each inhale.

There was a push from deep inside her brain to close her eyes, but that tiny bit she locked up behind a bank vault deep within wouldn’t let her. Even if this was just a distraction, a way to get lost in the crowded club. She was ridiculously, mind-numbingly beautiful in that dress. A sleek black little number with a high slit on the side and a plunging neckline. She looked damned fine and she knew it too, but still why the kiss?

Strobe lights flashing high above in the club, music thumping through the walls and floor. The air thick and heavy with a mixture of alcohol and lust. Bodies on the dance floor grinding away. That’s when Y/n saw a glimpse of their target in peripheral coming their way. So that was it, Nat thought they were made. Her goto tactic, public displays of affection.

The heat from her hand searing through the thin fabric of Y/n’s dress as it settled on her hip pulling her in closer. A faint moan was hidden behind her mouth, a flick of her tongue across Y/n’s lips. Lightheaded and dizzy, drunk on whatever this was. Whimpering into that kiss at the feel of her fingers tangled in Y/n’s hair. Nat’s thumb grazing, almost tickling at the base of Y/n’s hairline. Goosebumps popping up sending a shiver down her spine.

A tiny smile graced her mouth. Maybe it was because the act was being caught on camera in the Quinn. Or maybe it was just to tease Y/n with her skills. Y/n wouldn’t put it past Nat to have made a bet with Clint before the mission started. Something moronic like getting Y/n to blush or break out of character while in disguise.

Y/n responded the only way a person in her position should, she relaxed into her. Pressing her body on Nat’s. Smooshing their chests together. She returned in kind rubbing her thigh on Y/n’s. Exposed skin slowly gliding up her leg, smooth to the touch. It was like a switch was flipped on when the sigh fled Y/n’s mouth. That tongue, her tongue, plush like velvet slid over her own. Assertive and forceful it moved like waves on a stormy ocean. Rolling and flicking.

Y/n felt like she was being marked like a giant sign was flashing over her head that read ‘back off, mine’. Those plush lips roving over hers. Intensity increasing, heat, and friction exploding between them. Dear gods almighty was Y/n dreaming? Sensuous hips of hers nudging Y/n back and away from the dance floor. Step by step being guided by Nat’s lips and hips until she was flush against a wall. Nat’s thumb brushed over her jaw sending shivers jolting through her.

The target they’d been sent to track closing in, bypassing them altogether. He only slowed his steps long enough to watch aroused in the act before him. Grinning like a teenage boy discovering porn for the first time before he shook his head and kept on his route. Nat didn’t pull away, not even when he was long out of sight. Her hand slid from Y/n’s hip down cupping her ass. Fingers kneading and squeezing the plump flesh.

Unable to control herself in the drunken euphoric state Nat had created, Y/n moaned at her touch. She knew it was coming and ready. That skillful tongue always ready with a snarky comeback, sunk deep inside her mouth. Claiming everywhere it touched, rolling and curling. Warm and sweet. She was practically purring holding her body to Y/n’s. Nat’s body buzzing with energy beneath that calm exterior.

Her hand dropping from Y/n’s hair to cup her cheek. Pulling back slowly she went expressionless though the darkness in her eyes couldn’t disappear. Her thumb wiping away the smudged lipstick around Y/n’s lips. It was over as fast as it started, but her eyes lingered. Flickering from Y/n’s eyes to her mouth in a blink.

“Trackers been placed on the target.” Her voice was more sultry than normal. The same tone she used on enemies to garner information.

There was silence as they left the club. Not a peep or even a cough while driving to the extraction point. Nat wouldn’t look at Y/n. That wasn’t just a distraction in the club, there was more to it, there had to be. Y/n had never felt that heated intensity from anyone before. Not a single lover ever made her feel the way she did in that kiss. Nat made her feel like she was melting and burning at the same time. Like her was a body of water getting hit with a bolt of lightning.

Clint was already swiveled back in the pilot’s seat amid pre-flight checks. Watching with a faint smirk as they climbed aboard the Quinn. He’d seen it all from the cockpit. Risking a glance at Nat as she sat beside him in the co-pilot’s chair. His mouth poised open to speak but the tiny almost unseen twitch in Nat’s eye made him think twice. Cocking his head back to acknowledge Y/n, he met her gaze with a wink before focusing on the flight controls.

The whole flight home was as quiet as the grave. Inside Y/n was screaming, drowning in her thoughts. Not once in the history they’d known each other, worked together had she ever done anything like that before. Never had Tasha looked at her the way she had been since they walked into that club. They’d trained and sparred together all the time. Bodies touching and tangling in elaborate moves, yet never once had she looked at Y/n like the way she did. How possessively she grasped onto her. That kiss? Was it all in Y/n’s head or was there something there?

Clint had landed the Quinn in the hanger and was rounding up all his gear. Headed down the ramp the second it opened, he wasn’t willing to see what he knew was coming. Clint had a sixth sense about him when it came to trouble. He knew when things were brewing even before the person causing it knew, but Y/n hadn’t known at the time how much he knew. Too many late-night conversations in hushed arguments with Nat about it. She’d made it clear to him that it’d never happen, so he gave up trying to convince her otherwise altogether.

Clint took one last look over his shoulder at Nat. She hadn’t moved from her seat. Sat in stillness staring out the window into the expanse of the hanger bay. A stone statue with shimmering red hair. He coughed and caught Y/n’s attention. An expression filled with knowing regret and nod toward Nat’s direction. Rolling her eyes, Y/n shook her head. He responded in kind by flipping her off walking down the ramp.

Y/n grabbed her duffel bag ready to leave, but each step toward the ramp felt heavy and slowed as if she was walking on wet sand sinking downward. Something in the universe was telling her something. Y/n dropped her bag with a loud thump that echoed in the small cargo bay. She found herself standing behind Nat’s chair. So many words floating in her head and none of them sounded right.

“Can… can we talk about that?” Her reflection in the windshield stared forward blankly. Nat blinked slowly and closed her eyes. “Look, I get it, you thought we were made and you used your ways to distract him…”

“It wasn’t…” she shook her head, the flirty waves in that scarlet hair bounced around her shoulders. “Just a mission Y/n, a distraction, that’s all it was.” Gutted and fuming, Y/n tried to keep her calm.

“Right, yeah, sure thing.” Shifting from one foot to the other in the uncomfortable heels, kicking them off. It didn’t feel like it was just apart of the mission to her. A sharp jabbing commenced in the pit of her stomach.

“Y/n,” Nat turned to face Y/n, but Y/n didn’t see why her face was stone. No emotion, nothing, typical Black Widow.

“S'fine,” the fake smile that graced her mouth. “Was all my imagination. Silly to think it was anything more.” How childish she was letting a little kiss affect her like that. She was the Black Widow, skilled in seduction to get her way and Y/n fell for it.

Y/n turned her back on Nat and left her in her deafening silence. That sick feeling in the pit of Y/n’s stomach, the embarrassment letting on how it affected her so. She let herself feel and believe the impossible with a kiss. She let her mind run wild with thoughts the whole flight home, gave herself a small glimmer of hope. She was Natasha Romanoff, how could you not admire, let alone fall for her?

**********

**Nat POV**

I wasn’t trained for this, never had to deal with actual honest overly emotional feelings. I never allowed myself to have them. They just created complications and yet here I was deep in complications. Did it even matter anymore what I felt? But here I stood watching her in the gym, hidden in the shadows like a coward. All because I dropped my guard letting myself 'feel’. All these years keeping myself closed off and secretive. Distant, watching from the sidelines. Letting people in would only lead to heartache and obstacles in the field.

Y/n was training with Steve and Bucky in a two against one fight. She’d steered clear of me for the past two weeks, but I couldn’t stay away. The way she moved, dodged, and went after them with a fury. Her moves slightly sloppy and emotional but they landed never the less. The boys could tell something was up with her but didn’t say a word, just let her take out her frustrations.

A punch, kick and a sweep of the leg and Bucky was down. Pinning him to the floor disabling his metal arm leaving him stunned. She flipped backward off Bucky and continued her assault on Steve. A jab and a kick to the stomach she sent him stumbling backward. He was determined to get her down, but she wouldn’t let up. Not even when Bucky came barreling in from behind.

Tackling her to the ground with a smug grin on his part. His knees pinning her shoulders to the ground. Y/n growled, deep and savage as her head snapped up and headbutted him right in his junk. Howling and hissing pain, Bucky rolled to the side holding himself.

“Cheap shot, Y/n,” Steve chastised her.

“Enemies won’t hesitate, friends are no different,” she spat getting up from the floor. Head bobbing side to side, I heard the cracking in her neck from where I hid. She was more than frustrated, she was out for blood.

“Enough,” Bucky coughed. “I concede, she wins.”

They both walked away watching her warily as she headed towards the punching bags. Hands still tapped up from sparring, her rage taken out on it as if her life depended on it. Repeatedly hitting the bag with an inhuman force. She didn’t stop, not even when she was visibly exhausted. That was just like her though, never stopped until she could no longer stand. Even in the field, sick, injured, it didn’t matter. She’d keep going until she dropped or someone forcibly carried her out of the danger zone.

“What’s up killer?” Clint mused with a smile. He liked it when she was like this because it meant it was easier to push her buttons. Easier to rile her up and goad her into a battle of snarky wits.

“FUCK!” The last punch she landed on the bag was met with a snapping that rang through the gym. Clutching her hand to her chest swearing every ungodly phrasing of curses she could think of.

“Whoa there sparky let me take a look,” Clint reached for her hand but she only sneered.

“What’s fucking wrong with me?” A wild almost alien look in her eyes, like a wounded animal.

“Um… pretty sure you just broke a finger or two??” Not intended to sound like a question but more of a response.

“What’s wrong with me Clint?” Y/n slumped to her knees. “Why… why can’t she…”

“Y/n…” Clint knelt beside her resting his hand on her shoulder. “I-I don’t know what to say about that. It’s com…”

“Complicated! I know everything is always complicated, but you know what, so is life so what’s the fucking point in playing it safe?”

“Come on kid, let’s get you to medical.” Lifting her off the floor he helped her out the door, but he turned his head caught my eye with that stupid look of disappointment.

There was never any doubt in my mind that she was stunning, not just in appearance but in intelligence and the little things she did. How no one managed to notice the spectacular mundane things she did. Maybe I only noticed because I was lonely. Too much time spent wallowing and hiding, denying what was there since the first time we met. Or maybe I was the only one that saw what she because that’s what I was trained to do.

That smile, her smile. How could a tiny smile, a simple little polite grin ruin my whole world? Shatter the walls I built up. Bit by bit she tore down that fortress, one brick at a time and she didn’t even realize. My whole life had been about infiltrating and spying, gathering intel, playing one side against the other. The idea of love and all that sappiness was 'programmed’ out of me in the Red Room and yet I struggled with that foreign feeling each time she smiled at me.

I’m not proud of the fact that I followed her, hiding myself observing the little things she did. Trying to understand the pull, the urge to be near her. I watched her sneak inside Tony’s lab while he was asleep at his workstation. Tiptoeing passed him she slipped the backpack off her shoulders standing in front of his little coffee nook. All manner of his favorite blends came out of her pack and stuffed in the cabinet. Bottles of water crammed into his mini-fridge.

Her backpack had a Mary Poppins carpet bag feel to it. Sugar packets and creamers tossed inside the basket beside the coffee maker. Freeze-dried blueberries, granola bars, and his favorite candies sat beside the coffees on the shelf. Y/n slipped out as silently as she came when Tony started to stir in his sleep. Tony sat up and stretched and went straight to the coffee maker, the same one she had set up already to go and he didn’t even realize.

Y/n headed out into the Compound grounds and towards the greenhouse she’d built with the help of Clint. It was cute to watch her slip out of her sneakers and walk around barefoot. Squishing her toes into the grass and the freshly turned dirt. She hummed entering the greenhouse checking on the flowers she grew. The lavender she used to make essential oils for Bruce. She had diffusers in his lab and his bedroom, even made him a bracelet out of lava rocks, and when he wasn’t looking she’d douse it with the oils.

She also grew two different types of Chamomile flowers that she dried and made tea out of. The dried herbs in the kitchen cupboard in dainty antique little tins. He loved it and pestered her to find out where it came from. Y/n would only smile and tell him they came from a quaint little farmers market, but each week she’d refill the tins without anyone noticing.

Clint never knew she was the one that hid snacks and spare hearing aids in all of his hiding places. All of the places he frequented when he needed a break from everyone else. There was always a pencil stuck in her ponytail or a piece of charcoal in her pocket for the inspiration struck Steve and he had nothing to doodle with. There were smaller sketch pads left in Quinn jet’s and around the Compound that no one ever knew where they came from but always in plain sight.

There was a sixth sense about her when it came to Bucky and his nightmares. She’d already be in the media room with a large bowl of popcorn and an old black and white movie from the 40’s on the tv qued up and ready to play. The bowl of popcorn held out to him without a word the instant he sat near her on the couch. No words exchanged just a soft smile. They sit until dawn watching movie after movie finally talking up a storm over how better movies were then. He’d grin and nod a 'thank you’ before retiring to his room feeling better than he had in weeks.

She created a spring-loaded system in Thor’s cupboard in the kitchen. Each time he devoured a box and trudge guiltily back to the empty cupboard he’d find a small hoard inside. He was ecstatic in childish glee believing that Midgard had Pop-tart fairy that granted his deepest hungry need.

A single phone call from Peter Parker was enough for her to hear the need for validation in his voice. Those anxious fits where he doubted his ability, doubting the good he was doing in the world. Y/n would drop all that she was doing and rush to Queens and track him down. She’d spend however long it took to convince him that he was making a difference in the world. That even the tiniest act of heroism made a difference. Just a simple hug from her and the kid felt like a million bucks like he could take on the world.

Pietro, Wanda, even Rhodey she found some small way to affect their lives. An action so tiny, so minuscule that either they didn’t notice or just thought that’s how she was. But for all Y/n did, no one ever how she really was. The struggle to put a smile on her face when she’d rather scowl and lock herself away.

Y/n fought hard against her past. She never wanted to speak about, not even on those overly drunken nights when she’d had too many. Not a word was uttered but I could see it in her eyes. That dead empty look when memories of the past creep up on you. The ones that have you doubting your entire existence. Something awful happened to her, something that shaped her into who she was now. I saw myself in her, maybe that was what drew me to her in the first place. I saw in her what I could have been if it hadn’t been for the Red Room.

Even though life constantly threw her curveballs, she came back swinging. I’ve never seen someone knocked down so often who refused to give up. She fought through pain and injuries. Shattered bones, fractures, crushed appendages, it didn’t matter. She let the adrenaline fuel her and battled to keep her friends and even strangers safe against the evils of the world. Her fury only stopped when the pain was excruciating enough to make her pass out.

It was stupid that stupidly moronic selfless insanity that made me want to kiss her. I wanted to hold her close, unafraid of what the world would think. I wanted to kiss those lips and give her a reason to smile. I wanted to do for her as she’d done for so many others. Each time I saw one of those rare and genuine smiles on her lips, I wished I’d been the cause of it, but I had too many enemies that I cared to admit. Too many entities and countries that wanted me dead and they’d only use her against me.

Despite all of that worry, I could still see myself curled up beside her in bed. Her arms around me, head on my chest surrounded by junk food and the glow of a movie playing on the tv in front of us. I saw lazy rainy days in pajamas. Late nights on a blanket under the stars with wine and laughter. I saw and wanted the sweet tender kisses, the warmth of her hugs. What I saw with Y/n was something I never thought I could have and it made me want it all the more.

**********

Tony went too far overboard, but he said he had a valid reason, Y/n was 'like the little sister he never wanted but wished he had’. It looked like a wedding planner on Adderall riding on a unicorn that threw up glitter and flowers everywhere. Candles and twinkle lights as far as the eyes could see. A live band, and so much food.

The place full of more than a hundred people, some she knew, others Y/n assumed Tony wanted her to. She didn’t know who was worse, Tony or Pepper with all their meddling trying to set her up with someone. It was boarding on an obsession between the two of them. Y/n was sure there was a bet placed over who would succeed first. She danced more that night that she had in her entire life. Pulled from one partner to another.

The lights dimmed and a massive five-tiered cake in her most hated color scheme was wheeled out, dotted with candles. Tony was smirking seeing her disdain at the color, but she supposed that’s what a 'brother’ would do. Pepper ushered Y/n toward the cake beaming excitedly. She knew the overly feminine touches around the venue were her doing.

“Does the Birthday girl have a wish before she blows out the candles?” Tony snickered earning an elbow from Pepper.

Y/n had one wish for a while, the same wish that rattled around inside her head since before that night in the club. The same thing repeated in her head over and over on a nightly basis. The same dream, the same want and she stood across from Y/n. Dressed in a little black and red polka dot vintage cocktail dress. A familiar shine her eyes, the one that was there even when she was trying to appear hardened and uncaring. That sparkle was always there, even now with the flicker of the candlelight dancing inside them, it was there. Y/n locked eyes on her and leaned over blowing out the candles.

The night wound down only Avengers and a few stragglers from S.H.I.E.L.D. left. Y/n just wanted to go to her room and sleep but Tony and Pepper had other ideas. Tugging and pulling her along toward the gift table. It’s not that she didn’t want any gifts, it was just the opening of them in front of people. That stupid little act was about the only thing to ever give her anxiety, too afraid to hurt someone’s feelings if she didn’t give the right reaction to their gift. She’d rather open them alone in her room.

Box after box followed by gift bags galore. From the sweet and thoughtful like a framed pencil drawing of Y/n from Steve to the asinine amount of Hawkeye merchandise from Clint. One lonely box left on the table. Golden wrapping paper with flecks of red complete with a golden bow. The tiny card tucked in the bow read, 'For the hundred-plus kisses that should have been’.

“Secret admirer?” Steve questioned with a smirk.

“Hardly,” Y/n snorted, but she found herself glancing toward Nat.

Inside the box was stuffed with Hershey Kisses. Hundreds and hundreds of Hershey kisses in all types of flavors. Multicolored gilded tin foil-wrapped candies stared up at her, meticulously stuffed inside the box to fit as many as possible. Y/n didn’t know what to think, but she laughed because it was a box full of kisses. A cosmic joke answering her wish.

“Alright, it’s been fun. A lovely night thank you, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night.” Y/n smiled tiredly, but more so over the raging emotions inside that struggled to eat her alive.

“Awe come on, the night’s still young… younger than you are now.” SMACK, Pepper’s hand slapped against the back of Tony’s head. “OW!! Was that necessary, I was kidding.”

“Go on ahead sweety,” Pepper smiled. “I’ll have everything sent up to your floor tomorrow.”

Y/n had hardly been in her room an hour, laying in her bed staring at the stars outside her window struggling to find sleep. A guilty soft-sounding knock at her door caught her attention, only one person could manage to make that noise. Pajama clad in the Donatello Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle onesie Peter Parker had given her for her birthday a few days before, unable to attend to party tonight. Clint stood blushing with a half-smile, my box of Hershey Kisses under his arm.

“I uh… l think these belong to you,” he croaked holding out his closed hand toward Y/n. Clint filled her outstretched hand with dozens of crumbled tags from the Hershey Kisses.

“Why the hell do I want your trash and you’re so dead for eating my present!” She glared at Clint, but in fairness, Y/n should have known better especially around Clint, Mr. Sweet Tooth himself.

“In my defense,” he started to ramble, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t eat all of them only 20, okay maybe 30 of them.” Y/n leaned to the side of her door ready to throw them in the trashcan beside her desk when Clint grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t.” The commanding tone in his voice had her questioning and she set them all on the desktop.

“Why not it’s only trash?!” Y/n wasn’t in the mood for Clint and his games, but there was something in the way he looked from the box to the scraps of paper on her desk.

“Oh, you think so?” Nodding his head with a cheeky grin laughing. “You’re not as observant as you think Y/n.” He stepped inside long enough to place the box on the other side of her desk, smirked, and walked away shutting the door behind him.

Y/n sat at her desk, turning on the lamp, she smoothed out the tiny pieces of wax paper. Her mind racing back to the tag on the box and what it said. 'For the hundred-plus kisses that should have been.’ The delicate handwritten card, and the loopy yet elegant letters. Each bit of paper painstakingly handwritten in various languages.

**'The first time I saw you smile.’**

**'Ogni volta che ridi.’** (Every time you laugh)

**'Завоевание меня на ринге.’** (Conquering me in the ring)

**'Comment vous vous souciez des autres, même quand ils ne remarquent pas.’** (How you care about others, even when they don’t notice)

**'Spielen Sie Klavier, wenn Sie denken, dass Sie allein sind.’** (Playing the piano when you think you’re alone)

**'Each time you swear in a foreign language.’**

**'The way you look at me when you think I can’t see.’**

All she could do was slump back in her desk chair. The completely sucked right out of her rereading those tags. Y/n spend a sleepless night hunched over her desk meticulously pulling out and reading each tag from the chocolates inside the box. Piles upon piles of waxed paper scattered all over her desk. Messages in a few languages she could speak, others she enlisted the help of F.R.I.D.A.Y. to translate.

Tiny little moments, little blips in time over the years. The most mundane and minuscule action she’d done had been noticed by someone. She crossed her fingers it was Nat, but Y/n had never had the greatest luck in the love department. The universe and all its glory, all its knowledge of the here and now and the future always seemed against her.

**********

“Nat… Nat, it’s been days,” Clint shook her shoulder, but she didn’t move from where she sat on Y/n’s bed. “I think it’s time to clean it off Nat,” but Natasha jerked her shoulder away from Clint.

Her silence in the aftermath of it all spoke louder than any words would have. The faded and well worn hooded sweatshirt that Y/n wore all the time clutched in her hands barely recognizing the dried crimson splotches over her fingers and arms. The caked on and dried blood that covered her uniform. She could still feel Y/n’s hands holding tight to hers, hear the gurgling sounds as the blood flooded out of her mouth.

_The mission was an easy tag and bag, bringing in a terrorist to be questioned by S.H.I.E.L.D. With his compound surrounded, his forces diminished to nothing. They’d all fought hard, but no one was willing to celebrate just yet. Steve and Bucky were bringing him out, dragging him bound in ropes and cuffs. He was beaten and battered, looked like he’d given Steve and Bucky a good fight._

_They’d reached the ramp of the Quinn, ready to toss him in the cell inside. Y/n was watching the treeline with squinted eyes. There was something in those eyes, that look that said it was too easy. She caught the slightest bit of movement in the trees and refused to think nothing of it._

_“Clint the trees, the big pine at two o'cloc…”_

_She didn’t get the chance to finish, the shot rang out from a mile away. Shoving Nat away from the ramp, Y/n only had a second. She used that brief moment to smile. It was loving and adoring. The sweetest smile Nat had witnessed. The bullet pierced Y/n’s armor. The caliber was large enough to cut right through her and sink into the metal of the Quinn’s ramp. There were no spurts of blood, no fountains of scarlet spraying all over._

_“Fuck,” Y/n hissed, her hand grasping at her uniform._

_Wobbling, swaying lightheaded from the pain she crumbled to her knees. Grass and dried dirt billowing in her wake. Nat was at her side in an instant easing Y/n to the ground. Bucky, Steve, and Clint racing towards them. Blood oozing out of the wound with each beat of her heart. Dripping and pooling in the dirt around her. Red, brown, and green swirling and mingling in a morbid piece of artwork._

_“No, no, no, no, no,” Nat cried letting that wall down seeing Y/n in pain. Too afraid to look at the bullet hole she knew was there._

_Clint pulled back and aimed, the arrow finding its mark. The sniper’s body falling through the branches. Cracking tree limbs snapping as his body broke them on the way down. Steve running back into the Quinn in search of the med-pack._

_“You’re gonna be okay Y/n,” Nat repeated the words as if they were a mantra._

_“You…” Y/n coughed, blood dripping from her mouth. “Hershey… Kisses.”_

_“Yes, yes it was me,” Nat sniffled, trying her best to keep it all back, but the tears fled her eyes anyway._

_Y/n’s shaky hands reached up grabbing hold of Nat’s forearms. The grip weakening each minute. Steve and Bucky tried to stem the bleed, but nothing they had could handle a through and through. Clint coughed, swallowing back the vomit filling his mouth seeing the extent of the wound. There wasn’t anything on the jet that could fix that, nothing. Bucky hefted Y/n off the ground jogging inside._

_Holding all the gauze Bucky could find against the wound while Steve administered a sedative. Nat knelt beside her holding her hand. She knew in the back of her mind there was nothing to be done. The Quinn as technologically advanced as it was couldn’t fly fast enough. Y/n’s color slowly dulled, the sunkissed tan no longer noticeable, even the shine in her eyes was muted. A coughing fit led to a massive amount of blood seeping out the wound and over Bucky’s hand._

_Y/n’s lips covered in blood, the wet acrid smell of copper filled the cargo bay of the Quinn. The maniacal laughter of the terrorist from across the way. Clint didn’t hesitate to zap him with a taser rod. Each time he laughed, Clint shocked him again turning into a sick game. The terrorist wouldn’t stop laughing not after being brought to his knees. Clint acted out of anger, letting it take him over as he placed the taser rod on his head and held it steady until he passed out. Clint didn’t care if he was dead or not, he’d answer for his hasty actions later._

_Nat suffered in mostly silence, only the faintest whimper heard uttered as she held onto Y/n. Brushing the loose strands of hair from Y/n’s face, Nat leaned forward pressing a kiss to her forehead. Shaky lips and a trembling body betrayed Natasha’s stoic demeanor. Everyone on that jet saw the side of her she never wanted anyone to see._

_Gurgling and coughing Y/n lost the ability to speak. The air became harder to get in her lungs. Red translucent bubbles formed at the corner of her mouth. Y/n lifted an unsteady arm toward Nat, her palm resting on Nat’s chest over her heart. Nat could feel fingers tapping. Sloppy fingers pushed against her uniform in a beat. Knocking out the same sentence over and over until there was nothing left in Y/n._

_Her eyes glazed over, her hand fell with a thud on the metal grate of the jet flooring. There was no rise and fall of her chest, no movement at all. The screams that erupted from Nat. Ungodly, unearthly, not even a hint of humanity. The blood-curdling cry, the wails akin to a banshee echoed and wormed its way inside every nook and cranny. She remembered why she locked her emotions away, why she refused to let herself feel._

Nothing, nothing would ever get this horrendous feeling out her now. The loss of love before it was even hers. The one person who let Nat’s guard down, to get those emotions and feelings she had locked away was no more. No pulse, no breath, just blood, so much blood all over. Seeping into the cracks, soaking itself in whatever it grasped onto.

“Nat, it’s time. I’m not asking you to let go, but… but at least… the blood Nat. It’s starting to creep everyone out.” Clint’s voice barely registered anymore.

Scalding hot water beating down on her skin. A river of crimson water swirled around the drain. Images of Y/n’s smile, that last smile tugged at her. It’s hooks clawed into her felt as if she was being ripped apart from the inside out. Her body gave out on her, rocked with pain. Shaking her arms wrapped around herself. A tightening hold squeezing, strangling her lungs. Gasping and coughing, sputtering for breath. Her head pounding from lack of oxygen.

Panic rippled through her. An anxiety attack coursing through her veins. Y/n’s name fleeing her lips in a quivering rage. Repeatedly crying out for her. Pleading to come back, but it was a request that would never be answered. Too much red in her ledger and the Universe took it’s price just to spite Nat.

The others found her the next afternoon. Disheveled and wracked with guilt laying in Y/n’s bed wearing her sweatshirt. That was the last time Nat allowed herself to feel. The last time she let anyone in. After Y/n’s death, she was never the same. Barely a smile and if there was one, it was false and forced. Nat never laughed again. She hardened herself, shut it all down. Detaching all emotion what so ever from her being.

They all lost Y/n, they all suffered with Nat, but none worse than her and there wasn’t a thing any of them could have said or done to take away that pain. No one had the heart to pack of Y/n’s things, to clean her room or her locker, but on quiet nights in the Compound the sound of Nat’s cries could be heard from behind Y/n’s door. Even the most hardened, the calloused and heartless could have times that broke them. Each time Nat needed a reminder of why she couldn’t allow herself to feel again, she’d slip into that sweatshirt and cry herself to sleep atop Y/n’s bed.


End file.
